I am, like, so totally embarrassed. Humiliated. Lower than the very dirt!


If you could see my face right now, you couldn’t see my face right now because I’d be hiding it behind trembling, shamed, absolutely mortified hands.


Do you remember that I have all of our old letters from the days of teenagery? I had a fun idea today for a note to post tomorrow. I was going to do a Throw Back Thursday theme, and post one of my OLD letters. How fun, right?


I started looking through them, and at length I picked one out to read over as a possible consideration … Yikes. No good. So I grabbed another. HOLY HELL. It wasn’t a fluke. All of my letters are full on painful to read. I was a complete idiot.

I’m more than a little shocked that you never tipped me off to this fact.


Sweet Jesus. The mortification levels rise as I realize you are not the only person I subjected to this nonsense. Oh, may the Lord of heaven have led the others to put my letters straight into the trash bin without so much as a painfully awkward glance at the actual content. I assume you read and kept them only for blackmailing purposes? Which totally would have worked, because MY GOD THIS IS EMBARRASSING. Good thing I snagged them before you had the chance to carry out your nefarious schemes.


Okay, but seriously.

First of all, I am rather confused as to WHY you elected to be my friend, when I was so clearly a brain-muddled, babbling twit?? I sincerely hope that my presence in person was more entertaining than the letters I sent. Goodness Gracious.

I was going to read some of your letters to me to remind myself that you also were an idiot, but I remember your letters and you weren’t, and that whole plan was obviously going to backfire in a very unfortunate fashion, so I just didn’t.

Also your penmanship was always lovely and mine looked like someone was constantly slipping me drugs. Like that part in A Beautiful Mind when he’s medicated, and you see what he has been working on and you just cry because what even is that mess? Except that I wasn’t a genius when I started, so it’s a little less sad, a little more generally pathetic.

Secondly, I’m just really amazed. I mean, I feel like I have always been the person I am at this moment. It doesn’t seem to me that there have been a lot of changes. I mean, obviously there have been changes on a physical level. (I remember in the seventh and eighth grade I used to be mercilessly mocked for having the flattest chest of any of the girls in my school. That has most definitely changed. I was doing laundry just now, and when I pulled my bra out of the dryer I thought, Jesus. If I had been alive in the time of Moses, and living in Egypt, {which why would I have been living in Egypt in the time of Moses, but whatever} Moses’ mother wouldn’t have sent li’l Miss Miriam out for a basket. She would have just been like, ‘hey kid. Go steal one of that Audrey girl’s bras off the line and we’ll send the infant down the river in it.’ And Miriam would say, ‘Like a basket?’ and Moses’ Mom would roll her eyes and say, ‘More like a freakin’ houseboat. Just go do it.’ Now, I realize that this entire scenario is riddled with problematic elements – why am I time traveling to circa 1500 B.C. Egypt? Why is Moses’ Mom saying “freakin'”? Why do I have bras before they’ve been invented? But strange things happen to a person’s brain when they have to do laundry. I am not responsible for this mess.)

The thing is, I have changed. I’d say I’ve matured, but then there’s that whole “Moses” thing that just happened, and that makes me feel like maybe maturity isn’t the element that’s effected change here. In any event, I am different. I am altered. Thankfully, I like me better now, and I am PROFOUNDLY grateful for whatever dynamic thing it is that exists between humans that allows them to be fabulous friends over decades of tumultuous life even though you have always been fabulous and graceful and, well, Highness, while I have been an idiot.

I signed off on the letter, “Audrey the Whaley Mammoth,” which I did actually enjoy, because that’s just entertaining.


Oh my God. I feel a million times more grateful for you today than yesterday. God bless you for your patience, and your bizarre taste in bffs, because what on earth would I do without you?

And now I wonder if someday when we’re seventy we will wax nostalgic by perusing this blog and you’ll be sitting there all “Helen Mirren,” giggling quietly and thinking, ‘Oh, I was so clever,’ and I’ll be on the other end of the couch all “Whaley Mammoth,” wondering how I managed to convince myself I was over being an idiot when I was still quite clearly an idiot in full force.


It’s part of my charm.



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